


Of Supernatural Creatures, Hunters, and A Bit of Luck

by Princess_Cocoa



Category: Cabin Pressure
Genre: Alternate Universe - Supernatural, Angst, Gen, some violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-16
Updated: 2013-07-08
Packaged: 2017-12-15 03:34:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 7
Words: 10,752
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/844819
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Princess_Cocoa/pseuds/Princess_Cocoa
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They say demons are supposed to have good luck. So why is it that a hybrid like Martin doesn't seem to have any?</p><p>Fill for <a href="http://cabinpres-fic.dreamwidth.org/6625.html?thread=12492769#cmt12492769">this</a> prompt.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> **Guess who's back with more supernatural/other-worldly stuff? What can I say, I just love the genre. Anyway, as you may have seen this is a fill for a prompt (as usual) but the OP has yet to give me the ok on some (for me minor) violence in later scenes so I will be posting this slowly.**
> 
> **I have a real thing for secretly-powerful/capable Martin so I hope that is ok with the OP in that regard, otherwise, I like to think I've stuck to the prompt pretty well! Please heed the warnings - I don't actually think there's a whole lot - if any - triggering stuff in here but you never know.**
> 
> **Now I'll shut up and let you read!**

Demons are supposed to have good luck, at least that’s how it had always seemed to Martin. In actuality, demons don’t have any luck at all; they simply make their own. That, of course, is a skill that Martin never mastered.

Fairies, as well, are supposed to have good luck - in human lore, they’re the miniature harbingers of peace, love, and happiness. In actuality, most fairies aren’t all that small, or all that nice. That, of course, is a fact that Martin found out the hard way.

Martin is a hybrid of the strangest kind; the offspring of an aforementioned demon and a fairy. In theory, he’s full of great magical potential. If he wanted, he could control whole countries with his malevolence or with his supernatural charms - or both, if he so chose. In reality, Martin is considered by most (including but not limited to his _extremely_ powerful demon grandfather) to be the black sheep of his family.

It isn’t as if he set out to be the sole disappointment in his family, it just kind of happened.

If the single moment at which he’d become the official family failure could be pinpointed, he’d say it occurred when he was a child - barely old enough to cast simple three word hexes, let alone be walking around in such a populated human city. But walking around he was (for the very first time in the strange town) hand-in-hand with his mother.

Martin loved (and still loves) his mother. She was beautiful, sneaky, and kind. Her personality could change in a split second from pure benevolence to harsh, unadulterated trickery. Best of all - at least to Martin - she could fly.

Martin loved to watch his mother fly. Her wings were large - a sparkling and shimmering gold color, and they would flutter furiously as they carried her far above him. He would run after her in the fields near their house, both of them giggling as she would move just beyond his reach. After long minutes, she’d take pity on him and swoop down to pick him up, carrying his small form with her as she flew in loop-de-loops and zig-zag lines.

His love for flight didn’t just stop with her, though. The day that his mother took him into the city for the first time was also the first time he’d ever seen one of the humans’ strange flying contraptions. One might call it love at first sight.

The village they lived in was a small one, far out in the forgotten wilderness, shrouded in thick layers of magic to protect against humans. The city Martin’s mother had taken him to was nearly three hours away and filled with amazing things that Martin hadn’t even dreamed of.

The entire day, the young hybrid had gasped at the things passing him by. Yet when the first aeroplane had flown over, Martin had come full-stop, staring open-mouthed at the wondrous _thing_.

“That’s called an aeroplane,” his mother whispered to him, bending down to his level and watching it alongside him.

“It’s flying. Just like you.”

His mother smiled, chuckling at the comparison. “Not quite, my dear. Not quite. It doesn’t use magic wings like me.”

When the plane passed out of sight, young Martin turned to his mother with a grin, his eyes as bright as she’d ever seen. “Does that mean I can do that too? Does that mean I can be an aer-aero-aeroplane?”

Wendy smiled sadly, upset for what must have been the millionth time that her single flight-loving child was the only one born without wings. “I’m afraid not. They’re machines, like these cars passing us by. They’re not living creatures.”

Martin frowned, but pressed on undeterred. “Well then how do they stay in the air?”

“They stay up thanks to the air around them. But to get them up, people called pilots control them.”

Martin jumped up so fast he nearly knocked Wendy over. “I want to do that.”

“What?”

“I want to fly aeroplanes so I can be like you mummy.”

Wendy grinned, amazed at the usual innocence that comes with youth. “Maybe you can be,” she said, not one to stomp on childish whims.

She hadn’t realized at the time, of course, that what she had believed to be a “childish whim” was just the opposite.

~*~

When Martin was old enough, he tried to sneak away from his village while his overbearing father was away on “business” in order to take the exams to become a pilot. His mother wasn’t happy but as the years had progressed, she knew from experience that there was no stopping him.

So, with his mother’s begrudging blessing, he ran off with a fake human ID bearing his name and the necessary paperwork, fully prepared to take the exams.

In the middle of the flight portion of his test, however, the plane unexpectedly acted up. After furious yet futile maneuvering by both student and instructor, it went down in a small field. The instructor was seriously injured both physically and - as doctors determined later - mentally. None of his psychiatrists could hope to explain the man’s claims of a silver-eyed man dressed entirely in black appearing in the field with them and stealing the young student away, leaving behind nothing but a dark cloud of smoke. Especially considering the fact that said student was found mere minutes after him, completely unscathed but crying uncontrollably only a few hundred feet away.

~*~

Martin’s father was killed by hunters years later. They didn’t administer the fatal blow, but their relentless purification spells had been enough to poison him. His final days were spent in their small village at home with his family surrounding his bedside, all of them at a loss for what to do; not even Wendy's magical charms could hope to cure him.

He spoke to them one by one during those few strenuous days, leaving Martin for last. As Martin had entered the room that housed his dying father, he’d felt a sickening mix of trepidation, sadness, and stubbornness, but he hadn’t backed down, even when his father had given him _the stare_.

“I talked with your mother earlier,” he croaked, his usual deep and powerful voice bogged down by pain.

Martin didn’t answer, just stood at near-attention as he’d done ever since he could remember.

“No matter how many times I punish you, you still leave,” he continued. “Your determination to fly those human devices is...” He paused, looking Martin up and down. Then he smiled. “It’s astonishing. Near amazing really.”

Martin started, unused to the praise and the amusement in his father’s eyes. The look was quickly wiped away, though, as he closed his eyes and sighed.

“You see, now, why this is a bad idea, Martin.” He gestured to himself, obviously indicating the underlying danger in the form of hunters throughout the world. “They are of the ‘kill first, never ask questions’ mentality. I need you to understand that.”

Martin nodded, unable to do much else.

His father cracked his eyes open again, eyeing his pugnacious son wearily. “They’d kill you, if they knew. You’d have to be on guard all the time. You’d never be safe. Have you thought about that? _Really_ thought about it?”

Martin gulped and nodded. In truth, he had thought about it, very intensely. He’d perfected his shrouds and his camouflage for his eyes with their unusual black-speckled shimmering grey color. Most of all he’d learned to tamp down his anger - his _true_ anger. As much as he wished he’d never been born with the usual underlying demonic malevolence, he’d learned not to let it overcome him, if it appeared at all.

His father watched him, slowly shaking his head and giving him a wry smile. “Ok,” he said as he shakily pulled a ring off of his hand.

Martin watched in shock as the ring finally came off. Though his father was weak, the loss of the guarding gem caused the ground to shake - just the smallest bit - as his power was fully released. His father extended his hand, gesturing for Martin to take it.

“It’ll protect you,” he murmured as the ring found itself in Martin’s hand. “Even someone as astute as yourself can’t hope to hide power like that twenty four seven.” He closed his eyes again and chuckled to himself. “Your grandfather will be so upset. You have the power to make yourself a king of Hell if you so chose, instead you’re hiding yourself away.”

He smiles again, kinder this time. Loving, if such a word could be attributed to the man. “But I know you. You hate the business of being a demon.” He visibly deflated then, falling further into the confines of the surrounding pillows. “I don’t blame you,” he breathed, almost as an afterthought.

His father fell asleep then, and Martin took that as his cue to leave. He couldn’t celebrate receiving his father’s blessing as it came hand-in-hand with one of the biggest tragedies in his lifetime, but he couldn’t deny feeling euphoric as he left the room that day.

When his father died days later, Martin took his warnings to heart. He departed the village - hopefully for the last time - weeks later to take his final pilot’s exam. When he returned with his official license, he left almost immediately with nothing but a couple of suitcases, intending not to come back for quite some time.

He decided to take himself to the smallest functioning airfield in England, which is how he’d found himself in Fitton. He’d assumed, of course, that such a small town couldn’t possibly house hunters that might (however unlikely) find out about his true origins.

Given his spectacular lack of luck, Martin, of course, was completely wrong. So completely wrong, in fact, that he belatedly (belatedly being a kind and utter understatement in this case) realized that he’d found himself at the metaphorical headquarters of anti-supernatural activity. How was he supposed to know that the intense yet apparently innocent old lady named Carolyn was actually a ruthless killer of his own kind?

Later he would chastise himself for that thought. Honestly, Martin should’ve suspected earlier, if not immediately. Of course Carolyn’s a hunter, how could she be anything else? He’d had his niggling suspicions as he’d gotten to know her better and had become more aware of her personality, yet he’d chosen to ignore them.

The confirmation to his latent suspicions, though, ended up coming from the most unexpected of sources just over a year into his employment.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Bit of vampire-related violence in this chapter, just so you're warned :)**

As cliche as it may sound, it’s late evening when It happens. “It” being the pivotal point in Martin’s attempted human life - the point at which Martin goes from nervous new Captain to terrified and twitchy supernatural hybrid pilot. It’s ironic that it takes such a violent reminder to make him once again hyper-aware of his lineage.

Martin is walking home from the shops, carrying his meagre collection of groceries so as to save gas in the clunky van that he's learned to call his own. As a part-demon hybrid, Martin has little need for sustenance, he simply enjoys the taste of human food - it’s not something he got much of at home, for obvious reasons.

When he hears the scream, he knows almost immediately what it must entail. Despite that fact, he runs to the source, all the while ignoring his mind frantically shouting at him that getting involved in whatever may be happening is a Very Bad Idea.  

It takes him only a few moments to arrive at the scene of whatever supernatural happening may be going on at the moment. The scene turns out to be in an abandoned and extremely dirty alleyway. Really, of all the places to feast on a human's blood, darkened alleyways are the worst, in Martin’s opinion. Not only are they ridiculously stereotypical, they’re also extremely close to the roads and, by definition, to other people. Any child knows this, especially children of vampires; therefore, they generally take the time to pull a victim to a secluded place. This one is very obviously either stupid or eager, though probably closer to the latter if his ceaselessly vicious biting is anything to go by.

Martin drops his groceries at the mouth of the alleyway and holds up his hands.

“You’ll bleed her dry like that,” he says.

The vampire’s head whips up, it’s blood-smeared teeth glinting in the poor light. He’s a messy eater; the very sight turns Martin’s stomach.

The vampire’s head quirks unnaturally quickly towards its shoulder. He sniffs the air and stares at Martin with wide eyes.

“Don’t think you can get any of this, halfling,” he snarls. “This is my catch.”

Martin grimaces. Human blood had never been a diet his family subscribed to on the few occasions that they chose to eat, and he’s not about to start acquiring a taste for it now. “I don’t want any, thanks. I’m just saying that unless you want an investigation, you’ll want to slow down and let her live.”

The vampire smiles. “Does it look like I care about investigations?”

“Not particularly. But investigations like that could pull in a lot of hunters.”

The vampire tilts its head back and laughs at the sky, dropping the unconscious woman and rising to step quickly into Martin’s personal space.

“Too late for that,” he hisses, poking Martin in the chest.

Martin stands his ground. He has power to use if he has to, though he’d much, _much_ rather not have to resort to that. “What do you mean by that,” he asks.

The vampire smirks and, in a flash, has Martin’s hair in a punishing hold. He leans in and sniffs Martin’s neck.

“I do love fairy blood, even if it’s tainted by disgusting demon dna.” He licks his lips and stares deeply into Martin’s eyes before rapidly sinking his teeth into his shoulder.

Martin isn’t prepared for the vampire’s speed, and can’t move for a second, even after he realizes what’s happening. He closes his eyes, preparing to perform a hasty and particularly nasty spell when suddenly, the teeth are gone.

It’s abrupt, and only mere moments before Martin’s own attack. One second, the vampire is hungrily feeding, and the next, his head is completely gone. Martin stumbles back from the force of the blow, falling back and landing roughly on the ground. He blinks hard, feeling the last remnants of purity in the air dissipate.

He shakes, preparing to accept his similar fate. The last thing he wants is to hurt someone, not to mention the fact that his powers of combat are altogether rusty. He squeezes his eyes together, lowering his head.

He’s surprised, then, when, instead of a blow, he hears a single word shouted from the other end of the alleyway.

“Skip!”

Martin’s head whips up taking in the scene before him. Arthur is hastily stowing his recently-used gun in its holster as he runs to Martin. Not far behind, Douglas is swiftly walking to the unconscious woman with a first aid kit in hand.

“Skip. God are you ok? You look ok but -. Oh no. He bit you didn’t he? Oh no oh no.”

Martin is violently shaken by Arthur as the young man tries to get him to talk.

“Arthur, stop. He’s probably had quite a fright.” Douglas looks up, quickly finishing his examination of the woman and binding any areas of her body still bleeding. “She’s alive, at least. It looks like he was going to kill, not to change, so she’s safe in that respect. You, however...”

Douglas moves immediately over to them, replacing Arthur. He grabs Martin’s head and tilts it away from his bleeding shoulder.

“My god he was vigorous wasn’t he.” Douglas meets Martin’s eyes then. “Are you ok? Do you feel strange at all?”

Martin does, in fact, feel strange, though not for the reasons Douglas likely means.

Douglas frowns and reaches into his bag. “You’re in shock. Might be best to purify, just to make sure.”

That gets Martin talking. “No!”

Douglas looks up at him, eyes wide.

“I mean. Er. I don’t think...I mean...I’m fine. Really. I’m just surprised. Save your stuff, I don’t need it.”

Douglas’s eyebrows knit together, but he nods anyway. He gets to work on Martin’s shoulder as Arthur babbles in the background.

“Jeez, Skip, what are you doing out? It’s dangerous at night, you need to be more careful. That was really really not brilliant, not at all. I didn’t know who it was at first but then I saw you fall down after I shot him and I thought-, I just...”

Martin gives a shaky smile. “I’m fine Arthur. Thank you.”

Douglas scoffs from in front of Martin. “With as many hunters as there are in this city, you’d think that vampire wouldn’t have been so obvious. I suppose we’re lucky he was, for your sake especially, Martin.”

Martin remembers then that he’s not supposed to know what hunters even are. He puts on his best confused expression and looks between the two of them. “Hunters?”

Douglas smiles slightly as he finishes with Martin’s shoulder.

“Let’s have this conversation somewhere else,” he says as he packs up his supplies.

~*~

Martin is admittedly terrified of going back to Douglas’s house “for some tea” but he gets in the car anyway. He plays with the ring on his finger absently as he subtly checks and re-checks his shields. He practically falls out of the car when they arrive, claiming dizziness when Arthur rushes to his side.

Douglas makes an anonymous call to the authorities from a payphone down the street in order to help the woman they left behind before they all make their way inside.

“Are you guys sure about this,” Martin asks, looking around Douglas’s house nervously. “Were you guys patrolling or something? Do you want to go back out? I can talk tomorrow. It’s all fine, really.”

“Hush,” Douglas says as he puts the kettle on. “It’s fine. Carolyn’s out there right now and Dirk and Carl should be heading out in the next few hours.”

Martin nearly chokes on this new information but manages to shield his face from (still hovering) Arthur’s view as he takes a seat. Douglas, meanwhile, brings over the pot and a few cups, carefully filling them before he takes his own seat.

Douglas raises his cup to his lips. “You’ve got questions,” he says just before he takes a sip.

Martin’s questions at the moment are generally directed at himself and are, for the most part, of the same “how could you be so blind” theme. He stalls by sipping his tea, carefully thinking about where a human would start in all this.

“Here. I’ll go first,” Arthur says, obviously picking up on Martin’s nervousness. Arthur lifts his holstered gun and places it on the table. Martin barely manages to conceal a flinch.

“Arthur,” Douglas chastises, but rolls his eyes as he realizes that it’s too late to say anything of importance regarding manners and guns.

Arthur ignores him and points to the gun. “I’m a hunter,” he says cheerfully, shooting Martin a full-watt smile. “That’s my weapon, and I use it to stop bad guys from hurting people.”

Martin nods, still eyeing the gun warily. Douglas seems to notice and grabs it from Arthur’s hands, pulling it out of its holster.

“It doesn’t have real bullets,” he explains, setting the device in front of Martin, presumably for him to pick up and look at. Martin ignores the opening and swallows.

“What, um...what’s in there instead?”

“Empty canisters,” Douglas says, pulling some bullets from Arthur’s pocket. “If there’d been real bullets in there, it would have gone through the vampire and hit you in the shoulder. That would have been entirely counter-productive. Rather, we, as hunters, fill these cannisters with purity in the form of anything from good thoughts to legitimate prayers, if we’re so inclined. For obvious reasons, though, guns aren’t the best weapons.”

Arthur nods vigorously from his seat. “Mum has these cool swords with all these swirly patterns-"

“Runes,” Douglas cuts in.

“-that she uses to fight monsters. They’re a lot better and work on bigger monsters. She says they’re too dangerous for me, though.”

Martin nods, not taking his eyes from the gun until it’s been removed from the table. “So what constitutes a monster, then?” He blinks. He hadn’t been planning on asking that but he finds he’s genuinely curious. Is he a monster to them? A man that they’ve worked with, laughed with, talked with for over a year now?

Arthur answers first. “Anything that’s hurting people, like that vampire with how he was trying to kill you today.”

Douglas shakes his head and says, “What Arthur calls ‘monsters’ are supernatural beings. Most all of them have the potential to hurt humans. They're basically anything with magic, really.”

Martin looks at his hands in his lap, feeling overwhelmingly sad. “There are no good ...monsters?” The question is sheepish and he hopes Douglas will mistake his tone for exhaustion or something of the like.

“According to most hunters, no,” he says carefully. “Most times we don’t get the chance to ask.”

Martin looks up, looking between them both. He lets out a huge exhale. “So you’re all hunters then? How many of you are there here in Fitton?”

Arthur sits up from where he’s been whispering (presumably pure... _things_ ) into one of his empty bullets. “Pretty much everyone at the airfield, though Douglas is more of a medic than a hunter. Besides us, there are some people at the hospital and one person at a tiny restaurant. I can introduce you if you want, Skip.”

Martin closes his eyes and stands. “Right. Um, no thanks Arthur. I’m just...I’m going to go. This is a lot. I need to process.”

Douglas stands quickly, looking at him with understanding and pity and if that isn’t a total antithesis to Douglas’s usual personality, Martin doesn’t know what is. “I’ll drive you.”

Martin holds up a hand, already halfway to the door. “No. Please. I just want to be alone.”

Douglas frowns but nods. He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a necklace. He grabs Martin’s wrist palm-up, gently lowering the necklace into Martin’s hand. “At least take this,” he says. “It’ll protect you if anything else it out there. Carolyn may not be there if something else happens, after all.”

Martin closes his hand quickly and nods. He walks out of the house briskly, ignoring the distinct burning sensation in his left hand.

Once he’s far enough away, Martin tosses the necklace away, hissing as he looks at the angry scorch marks on his palm. He holds his wrist, blowing on the burn even though he knows it’ll do no good. His demonic healing won’t fix a pure scar like this which means he has to camouflage yet another thing now.

He walks slowly, contemplating his life now. He can’t leave, at least not immediately - it would raise too many suspicions. With more camouflage, though, it means just the smallest amount of magic more that he’s emitting. And if there’s one thing he’s learned tonight, it’s that he’s not safe around the airfield if that’s the case.

He sighs, angry and sad that he has to live so guarded again. He can’t trust the people he’d only a few hours before considered friends. How could he when all they want to do is kill him?

He stops and grabs hold of a nearby pole to steady himself. He bites down on his good hand to stop himself from sobbing too loudly. He’d been prepared for hiding, yet he hadn’t been prepared for the relationships that his unchangeable dna would ruin. He’s not sure how long he’ll be able to do this.


	3. Chapter 3

“Martin good lord you stupid boy, let’s see your shoulder.”

Martin cringes inwardly as he enters the portacabin days later for their flight. He hadn’t expected Carolyn to say anything of the incident but now that she’s shown genuine interest, he can’t back down.

He’s not at all used to having to stop himself from healing, and it was a challenge. He’s glad he chose to, though. He’d hate to have to explain his healing abilities to the room full of apparently ruthless hunters.

“Carolyn it’s fine, really.”

Carolyn tuts and practically shoves him into his seat. She stands there with her arms crossed, waiting patiently for him to understand and to remove his uniform jacket. He sighs.

“Carolyn...”

“Don’t ‘Carolyn’ me, I want to see it and make sure my idiot pilot is fit to fly today now kindly move your hand and let me have a look.”

Martin does, slow enough that he can - for the hundredth time - check his protection spells in response to someone getting this close. Carolyn unwraps the bandages and if Martin didn’t know better, he’d say that the look on her face could be considered concerned or even motherly. He sits awkwardly as she inspects the oval of still-prominent teeth marks.

“What were you thinking walking around alone at night like that,” she says absently, not seeming to expect an answer. Martin gives one anyway.

“I wasn’t aware that this town was so bloody dangerous,” he replies haughtily, refusing to make eye contact when Carolyn looks at him.

She moves back, resetting the bandages. “This whole world is dangerous, not just Fitton. Those creatures are everywhere. A simple human should never walk around late at night, especially not alone.”

“If the whole world is so dangerous, why are there so many of you hunters just at a little old town like this?”

Carolyn uncharacteristically bites her lip and moves away, grabbing the flight plans from Douglas’s desk as she moves. “There used to be huge villages of those things all around this town. I showed up here after my divorce with a few others and we made this into a little hub of protection for the growing city. Other hunters simply followed through the years.”

Martin nods absently. Of course that’s the case. Of course he ended up choosing Fitton when in reality it was actually the largest hub of organized hunter activity that he could hope to find. Give Martin fairy and demon blood and he still has the worst luck on the planet.

“Martin are you alright,” Douglas asks from across the room.

Martin looks around, realizing that Carolyn’s made her way back into her office and that Arthur is busying himself once again with making coffee now that Martin’s not being examined.

“Fine,” he says. “Perfectly fine. Just...fine.”

Douglas raises an eyebrow and goes back to his paperwork. “Yes, you look perfectly fine. I know it’s a lot to take in.”

Martin shakes his head. _You have no idea_ , he thinks.

 

* * *

 

Things slowly go back to normal after those first few tense days. Martin becomes confident in the fact that he can fully mask his power, his shoulder heals, and besides a few passing remarks, no one mentions the fact that he’s surrounded by dangerous hunters again.

Occasionally he’ll notice one or two members of MJN leave the hotel and not come back for a few hours. Those are the nights he calls his close family and makes sure they’re nowhere near his own location. Despite what humans seem to believe, demons do care about their family, and he’s not sure that he’d be able to carefully control himself as he has up to this point should something happen to one of his siblings - or worse - his mother.

He doesn’t realize that the same protective feeling he has towards his family is also one that, against all reason, he holds for the few members of MJN. While he’s almost positive that he doesn’t fully trust them and is terrified of what they have the ability to do to him, he still cares about them. That scares him more than anything.

Especially when he realizes that controlling his demonic anger is a hard-fought battle when one of them comes back injured.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Shorter chapter, I know. More will come in a few days :)**


	4. Chapter 4

Who else would it be in Martin’s life but Arthur that returns to the hotel late one night leaning heavily against Douglas, obviously injured.

Martin opens the door almost immediately when he senses the two walking quietly through the hallway. Douglas is startled when it happens, as he’d been making his way slowly to Carolyn’s room with Arthur in tow, just two doors down.

He stops for a moment, just staring at Martin in surprise. Martin, for his part, takes one look at the scene, blinks long and hard, then lifts Arthur’s other arm to help carry him. When Douglas uses Arthur’s key to open the door, Carolyn is there almost immediately. She doesn’t say anything - just as none of them have said anything thus far - she just rushes to the bathroom as they lay Arthur carefully on the bed.

Martin stands back and watches the others get to work while taking deep breaths to calm himself down. They’ve obviously done this before for one another, but Martin can tell by Carolyn’s pinched face that it’s not something that (thankfully) happens often.

Douglas methodically cuts off Arthur’s shirt to reveal four long scratch marks extending from below his pant line all the way past his shoulder. They look deep, and for a moment, Martin can’t breathe.

He knows that others of his kind are vicious, but he’s never seen it so close...so personal. He looks briefly to his own hand, a potential weapon like the one used against Arthur, and grimaces.  

“I’ve used runes to stop the bleeding,” Douglas mutters as he begins stitching. “But these are still very deep at some parts.”

Arthur is blessedly unconscious but that doesn’t stop Carolyn from climbing into the bed and placing her son’s head in her lap. She takes a rag she’d brought out moments before and wipes it across his sweat-drenched brow. The kind touch doesn’t do much in the way of easing Arthur’s stuttering breathing, however.

“What was it?”

Douglas looks at her for a second before returning to his work. “A demon.”

Martin barely conceals his gasp; he’d known as soon as he saw it, but hearing the confirmation made it worse - more real. Meanwhile Carolyn purses her lips. “Why didn’t you call for help? Demons are the worst possible creature you could face.”

“You don’t think I know that? It’s victim would’ve been dead if we’d waited though, and you know Arthur...”

Carolyn shakes her head and closes her eyes. “I do, the stupid boy.”

The room is quiet then as Douglas works. Martin moves to sit on the nearby bed, careful to do it quietly so as not to draw attention during the delicate process. He feels dizzy, and is trying hard to control himself. The disgusting irony doesn’t escape him: if he’d stayed to assert his power and try to rule alongside his grandfather, such abhorrent things might not be happening on the humans’ plane. But deep down, he also knows they still would - he can’t hope to control every demon, nor could he hope to make them all into the more benign spirits that he envisions.

Carolyn looks up at him then. “He’ll be alright, Martin,” she says, completely mistaking his shock and fear.

Martin nods and continues to watch Douglas work.

She keeps looking at him. “Demons are the scourge of this world, Martin,” she explains. He closes his eyes. “Now you see why the work we do is so important,” she continues. “We can’t let them continue to live on while they hurt others.”

He opens his hand and looks at the necklace scar through the layers of shields that he has up. He can’t escape who he is, no matter how hard he tries. And that means that no matter what he does, these people that he works with - and foolishly cares about - will always be his enemies.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Another shorter chapter but I have the next one pretty much finished so it should be up soon - probably in the next day or so :).**


	5. Chapter 5

The next day, after Arthur’s been fully treated and each member of MJN has gone out to eat one by one, Carolyn stands and stretches. She looks at Douglas, nods, and walks into the adjoining bathroom.

Martin, from his place at the desk in the far corner, watches the interaction and looks to Douglas quizzically.

Douglas stands as well, checking Arthur’s vitals as he does so.

“Will you be ok staying here and watching Arthur while we go out?”

Martin looks back and forth between Arthur and Douglas until comprehension dawns. “You can’t be serious,” he says.

Douglas shrugs and grabs his medical kit. “Carolyn won’t give up on look-out just because someone’s been injured; there are too many people out there who need protection. And, seeing as how she needs a medical specialist with her should we encounter any victims - or that particular demon again - I have to go as well. So, I’ll ask again...Are you going to be alright?”

“There’s really not a chance for me to say no, is there?”

Douglas smirks and looks him over. His eyes narrow at Martin’s throat.

“Where’s your necklace,” he asks.

Martin’s surprised he hadn’t noticed earlier, honestly. He looks down, feigning shock. “Oh. I guess I left it at home. I’m sure I’ll be fine though.”

Douglas shakes his head and rummages in his bag, pulling out another necklace with a different design. “You can’t take that off, Martin, especially if you’re going to be in our company. You’d be the first target if something came after us.”

Martin opens his mouth to reply, but thinks better of it. Instead, he carefully extends his hand to grab the necklace by the chain rather than by the charm. “If you say so,” he says, looking at the new necklace, instantly recognizing the charm from his studies as a child. “Thank you.”

Douglas nods but doesn’t move away. When Martin looks at him, he raises an eyebrow, looking slowly between the necklace and Martin.

“It won’t do any good just hanging from your hand,” he says. “No need to worry, I personally made that one; it’ll protect you from damn near everything...enough to get the chance to run away at least.”

Martin gulps, trying hard to mask his trepidation from Douglas. He lowers the necklace over his head, placing it under his thick, dark shirt just in case it decides to do something weird once it makes contact with his tainted skin. Douglas nods and walks over to knock on the bathroom door.

“By the time we get out there the sun will have risen, Carolyn.”

Carolyn responds by throwing open the door and walking out in the usual hunter uniform, namely, all black. She has on a long sleeved shirt, cargo pants, and thick, strapped boots. She walks over to her bag, rummaging through until she finds her sword, sheathed in layers of fabric.

Martin can’t help his slight flinch as she pulls the sword free of its bindings and places it carefully in its slot at her hip. Next, she dons a large jacket, long enough to conceal the thing. She looks at Martin and gives a mirthless smile.

“Most basic humans can’t see our weapons with the protective spells we put on them,” she says. “But people like you who are attuned to our world can. Better safe than sorry - especially while travelling through highly secure airports.”

He nods, considering himself lucky that there are such things as “basic humans” who can see their rune-covered weapons. He figures it’d be a dead giveaway if there weren’t.

In a blessedly short amount of time, the two of them leave. No sooner has the door clicked shut than Martin’s hastily grabbed the necklace and thrown it off, hissing as he traces the new markings on his chest.

“...Sk-ip?”

Martin freezes where he stands inspecting this latest burn. Slowly, he turns his head, meeting Arthur’s half-lidded eyes.

He smiles, trying his best to act normal even as his mind is screaming at him to run out of there right now and to leave MJN behind once and for all before things get any worse. Of course he immediately disregards his traitorous thoughts - he can’t just leave Arthur alone, after all.  

“Arthur, you’re awake. That’s good. Are you hungry? How are you feeling? Do you nee-” He cuts off his babbling as Arthur gently shakes his head.

“Did that burn you?” he croaks, his eyes staring directly where Martin’s hand is still cupping the sore area.

“No, no! Nothing burned me.”

“Why’d you throw it off then?”

Martin wracks his head for an explanation and comes up short. “I just...I don’t...I...”

Arthur’s brows knit together, and he puts on his “thinking face” as he ponders Martin’s reaction. “You don’t...hurt anyone. Do you, Skip?”

Martin is stunned into immobility at the question. He stares directly at Arthur and finally, after long moments of deliberation, acquiesces.

“No,” he whispers. “I’ve never hurt anyone. And I never plan to.”

Arthur smiles in return. It’s a lower intensity than his usual ones but still full of joy all the same. “Good. That’s good,” he says as his eyes gradually drift shut.

Martin stands and stares at Arthur, just breathing for a few seconds. He hopes to whatever deity that demons and/or fairies are supposed to believe in that Arthur remembers this simply as a dream. Of everyone to find out, Arthur has to be the absolute worst. While he at least won’t kill him outright, the boy has no ability to lie whatsoever. Once Carolyn discovers the truth, it’s over for him.

He places his head in his hands and works hard on controlling his broiling emotions. The last thing he needs is to hyperventilate right now...or worse. If he calls too much attention to himself by letting his emotions or magic run free there’s no doubt other demons (or hunters) will come crawling his way.

After a few minutes, he stands up and grabs the necklace off of the floor. Using his already-scarred hand, he carefully removes the charm, burying it under various things in the nearby trash and putting the chain back over his head, hiding the rest under his shirt as he did before.

He seats himself on the empty bed and stares at Arthur. He doesn’t move again until hours later when Arthur’s eyes begin fluttering open once more. When he wakes fully, Martin gives him a tentative smile, receiving one in return.

“Thirsty...”

Martin starts, immediately springing into action. He runs to the water they’d brought up before, pouring a glass and helping Arthur take small sips. As he does, he seems to regain more and more energy until finally, with many grunts and a lot of effort, he’s able to prop himself up a bit more.

They sit in silence for awhile as Arthur makes his way through his third glass. Long minutes later, he looks at Martin.

“What are you, then, Skip?”

Martin blinks, then closes his eyes, placing his fingers at his temples. It really was too much to hope that Arthur forgot about the earlier interaction.

“Skip?”

Martin opens his eyes and stares at Arthur. “Why do you care? I’ll be dead soon anyway.”

Arthur gasps and struggles to sit up further. Martin rushes over to stop him before he hurts himself any more.

“Arthur, stop. What are you doing?”

“Don’t say that, Skip,” he says, bright eyes staring imploringly into Martin’s. “Why would you say that?”

Martin backs off a bit and stares at Arthur incredulously. “As soon as your mother knows what I am, I’m done for, Arthur.”

“Mum wouldn’t hurt you.”

“Oh? Even if she knew I’m a demon?”

That stops Arthur a bit and his hand goes unbidden to his recently-attained wound.

Martin chuckles. “Don’t you see? ‘Demons are the scourge of this world’, right?”

“But...Skip...”

“But nothing, Arthur. I’m a hybrid - half demon, half fairy, fully evil in your mother’s eyes and apparently yours as well. I just. I don’t know what I’m supposed to do now.”

The room is silent again as Arthur thinks. “Nothing,” he says eventually. “You don’t have to do anything.”

Martin laughs until Arthur holds up a shaky hand to stop him, looking far more serious than he has any right to.

“Look, Skip, I know I’m not really very bright, but I know my own mum, and I know what you’re scared of. But I also know that you wouldn’t hurt anyone, especially not us. Overall I think...I think it might be best if I just don’t tell her. Is that what you want?”

“Of course it is. But, Arthur, you can’t keep a secret for five minutes, I can’t expect you to do this.”

“I’ll be fine, I promise. This is super important and I want to help you.”

Martin stares at Arthur again. “Why? I’m a demon.”

“But you’re a good demon. You don’t hurt anyone and you’re my friend, Skip. I don’t want anything to happen to you just like I don’t want anything to happen to Mum or Douglas or Dirk or-”

Martin laughs. “Ok, I get it.”

“Do you trust me, Skip?”

Martin sighs and looks him over. “I have to now, don’t I?” He shakes his head. “But I do,” he continues slowly, “At the very least, Arthur, I trust you.”

Arthur grins. “Brilliant,” he exclaims, then winces when the slight movement jars his cuts.

Stepping forward, Martin extends his hand to still him. He’s not quite sure what to do at this point; he hates seeing Arthur like this - a mere facsimile of himself while he’s recovering.

A foolish idea pops into his head, then. He shrugs and decides to try it.

“Let me help you,” he says, gesturing at Arthur’s hand currently holding onto his stomach.

“Wha?”

“Here.” Martin sits and moves Arthur’s hand out of the way. “I can help you,” he explains. “I can’t heal it all right now, that would be too obvious. But I can take some of the pain away and I can make it heal just the slightest bit faster.”

Arthur eyes him slightly-dubious. “Er, Skip, I don’t know. Won’t that taint me or something? Mum said something about accepting help from demons, but I can’t remember what it was.”

Martin looks down at his hands. “You’ll be fine. I won’t ask you to make a contract since I have enough of my own power to use for this. Not a bit of my magic will be left on you when I’m done. Promise.”

Arthur shifts and gasps. When he regains himself he looks back at Martin and nods slowly.

Martin lifts his hands, holding them mere millimeters from Arthur’s body. Whispering a few sentences in his own ancient language, he opens his eyes, revealing his natural shining irises to Arthur and looking down to watch his work.

Black wisps of smoke appear seemingly from Martin’s palm and encircle Arthur. Slowly the boy relaxes, his eyes closing as the pain recedes. It takes only a few moments, and by the time he re-opens his eyes, the smoke is gone and Martin’s eyes are back to their more human grey-green color.    

“Better?” Martin whispers.

Arthur nods and smiles. “That was cool Skip.”

Martin blushes and goes back to the other bed. “You’d better get some more sleep, Arthur. Our flight is tomorrow. You’re lucky we don’t have any passengers this time around.”

Arthur nods and lowers himself back to his original prone position. “Thank you, Skip.”

“You’re welcome, Arthur.”

Martin watches Arthur’s eyes close. Suddenly, though, they snap back open, only for a moment. Only enough for Arthur to murmur, “I won’t tell Mum, Skip. I promise.”

Martin smiles sadly. “I know you won’t, Arthur.” _You won’t mean to, at least_ , he thinks as the young steward finally falls into a more peaceful sleep.

~*~

Martin is surprised, then, when Arthur is true to his word. He doesn’t reveal Martin’s secret in the next few days, and it looks like he’s not likely to at all.

In fact, over the next week, Martin slowly becomes confident in Arthur’s ability to keep this secret, even when the steward very occasionally but also very obviously winks at him after having talked to his mother. Carolyn, for her part, assumes that it’s all part of some ridiculous game they’re playing whenever she happens to see it.

For the most part, things in MJN are returning to normal following Arthur’s injury. The boy himself is slowly (though not quite as slowly as usual thanks to Martin) and steadily getting better while Carolyn (though she’ll completely deny that she ever was in the first place) is starting to hover less. Douglas is astounded by Arthur’s quick recovery time while, in the background, Martin is just content to still be alive and to still have the privilege of flying with the people he’s come to recognize as family.

Overall, he’s enjoying his life. Which is why he’s completely unsurprised when his horrendous luck comes back around to remedy the situation.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **First off, I want to say thank you for all the comments, bookmarks, and kudos, I love getting each and every one.**
> 
> **Now, technically this is the last chapter filled with plenty of drama since I love it so. I did make an epilogue of sorts since the OP wanted to see Herc - I just could not figure out how to fit him in otherwise.**
> 
> **Anyway, I hope you enjoy and are please with the conclusion to all of Martin's angst.**

It’s honestly in the most melodramatic way possible that Martin’s carefully created life comes crashing down around him. He would chuckle at the Hollywood movie-esque situation if he wasn’t so busy being utterly horrified of it.

It happens just over two weeks after Arthur’s incident. They’re preparing for another cargo flight which basically entails the currently-functional members of MJN who aren’t named Carolyn carrying various packages from their portacabin to GERTI’s hold while Arthur watches from the sidelines, cheering them on.

Carolyn is perched on a box next to her son, overseeing Douglas’s and (mostly) Martin’s work when - seemingly out of nowhere - angry black clouds roll over the airfield. Beside him, Douglas tenses and sets his box down. Martin does the same, turning around to see Carolyn ushering Arthur towards them and the aeroplane.

“This can’t be good,” she says to Douglas as she passes, leaving Arthur with them to get on the plane and retrieve her sword. Douglas sets about writing various symbols on the ground around them with a piece of chalk that he’s apparently just been carrying around. He chants indistinguishable sentences as he writes.

Eventually Martin recognizes that Douglas is making a ward - a forcefield of sorts - around them. He should’ve realized it sooner, really, but he’s distracted by the very strong, very _obvious_ demonic energy currently surrounding them.

He stills and allows the energy to encompass him for a brief moment, trying to see if he recognizes it at all. Naturally he does. Funnily enough, he’d never expected his own grandfather to want to put this much effort into finding and retrieving him.

Carolyn jogs down the stairs and hands Douglas his kit. Next she hands Arthur his gun with a strict warning that’s it’s only to be used as defence, not so that he can stand and try to fight. Finally, she looks at Martin.

“Stay in this shield, the demonic energy could kill you if you don’t.”

Martin very nearly laughs.

She walks over Douglas’s carefully drawn lines and immediately a white aura appears behind her, trapping Martin in with Douglas and Arthur and leaving Carolyn outside all on her own.

“Wait! Stop! What are you doing?” Martin shouts. He’d thought Carolyn would stay there with them, then his grandfather could stand on the other side and they’d have a (at the very least non-violent) chat.

Douglas puts his hand on his shoulder. “Martin, calm down. She knows what she’s doing.”

Martin shakes his hand off. “No she bloody well does not,” he yells. “She’ll get killed. Do you not see what this is?”

Douglas blinks and looks at the swirling clouds. Now, they’re extending towards the ground, ready to allow a demon to enter onto their plane. “It’s a demon...a powerful one too.”

Martin grinds his teeth and watches as the clouds disperse to reveal his very intimidating grandfather. Like all demons, he’s dressed in a complete black suit but somehow, he looks the best in it. He wears a single blood red kerchief in the breast pocket and stands with the straightest posture that Martin’s ever seen. His hair is perfectly pristine as always, a grey-streaked deep brown color.

He looks down his nose at Carolyn as she walks towards him and (too fast for anyone else to notice) his quicksilver eyes meet Martin’s before they’re back on the hunter before him.

“Carolyn Knapp-Shappey, a pleasure to finally make your acquaintance,” he says, voice booming throughout the surrounding air.

Carolyn watches him from where she’s stopped. Her eyes widen after a moment and, if Martin had to label what he sees in her expression, he’d call it fear. Not good.

“Douglas you have to let me out of here.”

Douglas’s head snaps to the left from where he’s crouched to look at him. “No way,” he says.

“Douglas, _please_.”

In the distance, Carolyn answers slowly, completely ignoring the fact that he somehow knows her name. “Astaroth. What in the world are you doing here?”

Martin’s grandfather chuckles. “Is that what they’re still calling me?” He shrugs and looks around, eyes lingering on the group behind the shield. “I have some business that needs taking care of. Now, if you’ll move out of the way...”

“Not a chance,” she says, drawing her sword and taking a fighting stance.

Martin groans and closes his eyes. Of course Carolyn probably interpreted his “business” as finishing off Arthur. They never did find the demon that hurt him.

“Douglas...”

Douglas eyes him. “Martin, why? You can’t do anything.”

“I _can_. You need to trust me.”

Carolyn walks forward, prompting movement from his grandfather. It’s slight, but Martin recognizes it: he’s preparing to strike if necessary. If there’s one thing he’s sure of, it’s that Carolyn doesn’t stand a chance against him. And, if Martin’s right, the rest of the airfield hunters are probably making their way over now, all wholly incapable of fighting him, much like Carolyn. He has to stop this.

“Douglas take this down right now.”

Douglas stares at him in silence for a second. “I can’t keep any human in here that doesn’t want to be,” he says slowly. “Martin...Can you really not leave?”

Martin makes brief eye contact with him that’s broken by a yell from Carolyn. He turns and watches as she’s thrust backwards, hand gripping her shoulder. She stops a good twenty feet in the opposite direction. She sets herself up, and runs forward. On Martin’s right side, his grandfather glides forward too.

“Dammit, Douglas!” he shouts, shifting his posture back before surging forward and slamming his palms against the shield. It breaks under the weight of his magic, shattering a hole just large enough for Martin to trip through. Using the forward momentum, he rights himself and sprints ahead, straight to the center of the impending action. He ignores Douglas’s pained gasp at having his spell broken and instead runs straight ahead.

He hears Arthur shout his name as he runs but disregards it, powering up as he makes his way forward, intending to intercept both fighters simultaneously.

Martin slides to a halt, thrusting his arms up. With one palm, he uses his magic to halt Carolyn’s downswing and with the other, he grabs his grandfather’s wrist.

“Stop it!” he yells, his voice booming with demonic energy, not much different than his grandfather’s own from before.

The force of the yell and the magic that accompanied it propels the powerful demon and the huntress backwards away from Martin.

“Just stop,” he breathes, making eye contact with each of them.

“Martin I don’t know what the hell is going on but you had better move. That demon is one of the most powerful ones that can get on our plane.”

“I know!”

Carolyn stops in her tracks, eyeing Martin.

“I know who he is,” he continues sheepishly. “He’s...he’s my grandfather.”

Carolyn returns to a defensive stance and her eyes narrow. “What did you just say.”

Martin lets out a stuttering breath. “I’m sorry, Carolyn. I didn’t mean-”

“No no no,” she cuts him off, visibly keeping a very precarious hold on her building anger. “ _What?_ ”

He gulps. “He’s my grandfather. My dad’s father.”

Carolyn straightens and looks him up and down, cringing when she meets his eyes. He hadn’t realized that he’d let go of his shields until now. Her eyes are set in stone as she walks forward, thrusting her sword forward, stopping it just beside Martin’s neck.

Vaguely, Martin hears his grandfather growl from behind him but it’s drowned out by the sound of his own thoughts. He’s staring into Carolyn’s eyes and she’s staring back, gauging him.

“Well?”

Martin blinks. “Well what?” he rasps.

“Aren’t you going to fight? Protect yourself? Hurt me?”

He’s not sure what expression he has on but he’s sure it’s one full of complete dismay. “Of course not. Why would I?,” he whispers.

“Because that’s what we do!” She shouts. “Demons hurt and kill humans as well as hunters. Hunters kill demons, it’s a never-ending cycle! Why should that stop with you?”

He shakes his head. From the corner of this eye he can see Arthur struggling against Douglas and shouting something. He can’t understand what it is.

“Tch.” Carolyn whips her sword away, holding it at her side. “This whole time. How could I have been so blind?”

She backs away and watches him.

“It’s not your fault,” he responds. He holds up his hand, showing her the ring. “I suppose I won’t be needing this now,” he says as he carefully pulls it off. He tries to suppress his power as its released but it’s not enough to keep the ground from shaking as it did when his father did the same thing. With as long as he's been storing his energy, there's really no chance of keeping a hold on all of it.

Her eyes are wide as she takes in his fully freed self. His power shimmers around him, giving his eyes and hair a slight glow. She shakes her head.

From behind him, Martin’s grandfather laughs. “Oh just kill her already,” he says.

Martin spins around and glares at him. “You shut up. This was fine, all perfectly fine. All I wanted to do was be a pilot, live among the humans and fly aeroplanes but you just had to show up.”

He smirks, giving Martin his usual all-knowing gaze, not unlike ones Douglas has thrown his way before. “Please,” he snarls. “This wasn’t going to last. It’s time you stop playing at being human and come back to Hell where you belong.”

Martin looks away, staring at the ground.

“You know as well as I do that this was inevitable. If not me, someone else would have come for you. You can’t escape who you are; grow up and take up your real responsibilities.”

Martin bites his lip and glances at Carolyn again. Her look alone is enough for him to make his decision. He smiles self-deprecatingly. “You’re right. You always are.”

His grandfather nods approvingly and extends his hand. Around him, the usual black smoke encircles, occasionally brightening with bolts of lightning.

“No!”

Martin turns to a faceful of exuberant steward. Arthur grips his wrist painfully tight. “No, Skip. Don’t. Please.”

Behind him, Carolyn is shouting and Douglas is racing to reach them.

“Let me go, Arthur.”

“No.”

“Arthur...”

“You don’t have to go!”

“I obviously do, Arthur,” he says with more heat than he’d originally intended. He rips his hand from Arthur’s grasp and turns to leave.

As he walks, his wrist is grabbed again.

“Arthur. I swear I will-” He’s cut short when he turns to find Carolyn holding on to him instead.

“You’ll what?” she says slowly.

Martin swallows. “I was going to say ‘cast a paralysis spell on you’...temporary of course.” He shakes his head. “What are you doing?”

She smiles the slightest bit at his response. “I’m making sure. Re-evaluating, you might say.” She releases his wrist and steps in front of him. “I suggest you use that portal and leave, Astaroth. You can’t take my pilot unless I allow it, and I haven’t, nor do I plan to.”

Martin stares at her, unable to move. “Carolyn,” he hisses.

“Shut up, Martin, and let the grown-ups talk.”

Douglas walks up and stands next to Carolyn in front of him as well.

His grandfather smiles, not unlike the cheshire cat. “What do you plan to do? Protect him? You can’t even protect yourselves.”

“Can if we try,” Douglas says. “And I promise you we’ll try. We’ve got at least fifteen hunters in this area alone. Not to mention Martin here.” He turns, looking him up and down. “I don’t know about you, but I felt an immense power when he fully released himself. In fact, I can still see a bit of it lingering where he’s attempting to repress it. I’m sure he doesn’t need to go anywhere with you that he doesn’t want to.”

Arthur comes up beside Martin and grabs his wrist, trailing his fingers down to grasp his hand, smiling at him. Martin looks wide-eyed between them all, noticing the various other hunters running their way as they speak. His eyes eventually settle on his grandfather who’s staring coolly back at him.

“I knew you were the black sheep, but this is ridiculous.”

Martin cringes but doesn’t look away. His grandfather scoffs.

“Fine,” he says. “Just know that if you don’t come back now, you can’t ever. There’s no place for you in Hell, not anymore. Not for such a purely pathetic demon.”

Martin gulps and nods. “I understand,” he says, voice barely above a whisper. He knows his grandfather’s attuned hearing will pick up his response.

The demon narrows his eyes. “You’re an enemy if you do this. I can’t protect you - no one can. If they bring you back as a corpse the others may well celebrate after hearing about this.”

Martin nods again, slower this time as he considers the implications of his decision.

“If that’s your choice, then. Goodbye, Martin.” Without looking back, he walks through the portal, the smoke swirling around him and blocking his departure from their view.

Martin breathes a sigh of relief, nearly falling over as the tension leaves his body.

Carolyn turns to look at him then. She hands him his ring that he’d tossed on the ground minutes before. “You’ll be needing this,” she mutters, sheathing her sword once he takes it. She smiles at him, a more motherly look than he’d received even after the vampire attack. She wipes it from her face almost immediately and turns back to the plane.

She claps her hands together twice. “Now chop chop you useless pilots, we’re way behind schedule. Douglas, take a look at my shoulder and then go and explain everything to Dirk and Carl. Martin, put your shields back on and finish with moving these boxes. We take off in twenty minutes.”

Beside him, Arthur shouts, “Right-o mum! What should I do?” He runs after her, leaving Martin alone with Douglas. Douglas looks down and rolls his eyes before following after the other two.

Martin watches them walk away. He looks in the direction that his grandfather had just left in, and then looks back at GERTI.

As he walks to the remaining cargo, he shakes his head and smiles. _Yes_ , he thinks. _I’ve made the right choice_.


	7. Epilogue

“Carolyn,” Douglas calls as he looks over the flight plan. “Tell me, do we magically have a passenger on our cargo flight today or have you finally succumbed to old age’s symptoms of alzheimer's?”

Carolyn throws her door open and glares at Douglas. “Would you like to say that again, Douglas?”

He shrugs. “It’s an understandable question. Why does this flight plan say five passengers on GERTI when there are, in fact, only four members of MJN?”

Carolyn stops and her eyes shift around a bit. If Martin didn’t know her better, he’d say she’s nervous.

“Oh,” she says. “Yes, well. There are five because Herc will be joining us on this flight.” She raises her chin a bit, daring Douglas to say something.

He takes the challenge; quirking an eyebrow as he says, “Ah Hercules. Is there any particular reason that his first flight with us is the one in which we’re going to the most romantic city in the world?”

Martin smirks and looks at Carolyn. “I’m glad we finally get to meet him,” he says absentmindedly. It was, however, very obviously the _wrong thing_ to say as he now has Carolyn’s full-powered glare directed at him.

“Is that supposed to mean something?”

Martin shrinks in his seat. “Just that...you’ve been talking about him quite a bit. I had thought you were...” he trails off as he sees Douglas vigorously shake his head from behind Carolyn.

“Had thought we were what?”

“Er...”

“It’s been quite awhile since I’ve seen Herc. I can’t say I’m all that excited,” Douglas pipes up, saving Martin from having to answer.

He and Carolyn continue to banter for the next few minutes until the door opens, heralding Herc’s arrival. Immediately Martin perks up, eyeing Hercules warily.

Herc greets Carolyn and then turns to fully face Martin. He extends his hand. “Hercules Shipwright,” he says with a smile. “It’s good to finally meet you, Martin.”

Martin starts when the hand appears in front of him. Upon seeing it - and the slight shimmer of a shield up - he realizes what was so off-putting about him. He looks up at him in surprise, not wanting to say anything just in case Carolyn doesn’t know. He takes his hand and shakes it. “Martin Crieff,” he responds.

“Oh you can wipe that shocked look off of your face, Martin, I know Herc is a ghoul,” Carolyn says.

“I...but...how...”

Hercules smiles and backs up. "I saved her once, years ago. I suppose I gained her trust then, as she let me leave without trying to kill me. Whereas I've known Douglas for awhile now, and he reintroduced us a couple of months ago.”

Carolyn rolls her eyes. “You did not save me. I was perfectly capable of handling myself.”

Hercules smirks. “I’m sure that wraith believed that you were ‘handling yourself’ as it was preparing to kill you.”

Carolyn narrows her eyes and leads Hercules into her office as they continue to talk.

When the door clicks shut, Martin throws a look of complete confusion at Douglas.

“They’re dating, aren’t they?”

Douglas laughs. “Carolyn won’t admit to it, but yes, they are.”

“But...”

Douglas tilts his head. “Are you confused because she’s a hunter dating a ghoul or because she’s _Carolyn_ dating someone?”

Martin throws him a scathing look. “You know why I’m confused.”

Douglas smiles softly. “I've personally never subscribed to the belief that all supernatural beings are evil, hence my...friendship with Hercules. Carolyn has had a rough past with them, though, and working alongside her never gave me much chance to, shall we say, figure out the enemies’ (her words, not mine) true intentions for being in our area. Even Carolyn, however, has learned over the years that not all supernatural creatures need to be hated and killed. In fact, some can be loved and cherished. What, did you think you were the only exception?”

Martin blinks. “I...no. I’m just surprised. I always thought with you hunters you preferred to kill before you could ask any questions, that’s all.”

Douglas watches him for a second. “It used to be that way, at least in our small business,” he says. “But things have changed now. I think you know why.”

Martin turns back to his paperwork, at a loss for what to say. He does know why. He smiles as he absently rubs the area of his neck that only months before Carolyn had held a sword to and threatened to kill him. He thinks about what happened afterwards, and how he’d finally unexpectedly ended up here: an aid to a group of hunters, a pilot, a friend. He realizes that while it’s not where he ever thought he’d end up, it's right where he wants to be.

And for the first time in his life, Martin believes he might have been born with at least a little bit of luck of his own.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **So again, thank you for reading. I hope the OP was content with this fill :).**


End file.
